Christmas shopping eh. It’s like wandering into a pack of braying wolves with only a bobble hat for protection. Pushing, shrieking, snatching. Urrghh Horrible. But sadly, a necessary evil.

Some people (lads, mainly) like to play the danger game. Waiting, waiting, waiting…then, when there’s only hours to go, they bolt to the shops and run around like a weasel with his tail on fire buying the first bit of old twonk they clap eyes upon.

Not all people are like this of course. There are those that spend weeks looking for the perfect gifts for those they love…and these, my flirt-o-holic friends, are the ones to look out for.

Loiter around in any major department store (but try not to look too suspicious, being wrestled to the ground by a beige clad security guard is not a good look for anyone). Soon enough you’ll spy that tell-tale ‘confused and sorry’ frame, standing over a sea of kitchen utensils, egg-timer in one hand, meat thermometer in the other. Your mission now is to simply sidle over and pick up a matching gift…

“ So is this one supposed to be any good?” you enquire innocently “my Gran’s mad for rare beef but I wouldn’t know one end of a meat thermometer from another”.

“Oh, so that’s what it is” they reply “ it’s a good job I didn’t buy this for my sister, she’s a vet and wants a new rectal probe!”

What a cracking way to start a bit of chitchat. You can discuss all manner of present related subjects. From whether you should buy Uncle George socks – because he’s only got one leg and therefore its double the value – to the extortionate price of gift tags. It’s a flirting fan’s dream! Of course come the end of your chatter you can always suggest nipping for a swift coffee – and BAM there you have it. Success!

So my friends, make the most of these hideous trips to consumer Hades, and see what little treats you can bag for yourself – although I would avoid the chaps purchasing goods in the lingerie department, you can bet that saucy corset number is for a wife or girlfriend – and if it isn’t you might find yourself on the business end of a very ‘specialist’ gent.

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